


It Takes Two

by MatchaGhoul



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dancing, F/F, F/M, Gen, Oneshot, Reader Insert, membrane doesnt know how to dance, reader has a crush on membrane but doesnt know, reader offers to show him how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 03:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaGhoul/pseuds/MatchaGhoul
Summary: [ a request from izimagines.tumblr.com! ]anonymous requested: "How bout.. professor membrane and s/o trying to dance together :3c"“C’mon, boss, you don’t talk simple like that. What’s up? Can’t make time for a couple of dances?” You knew Membrane wasn’t one to stick around for an after-party, it’s true he was a busy man, but a part of you half-wished he would make an exception-- just once-- for the keynote speech he arranged for you.“I…” Your boss gripped his forearms, his words weighted with an uneasiness that made you concerned.Then realization dawned on you as you paused cleaning to drop your hands on your desk, dumbstruck.“Oh my god, don’t tell me.” You gaped, quirking your trade-mark holy-shit-you’re-serious brow.





	It Takes Two

**Author's Note:**

> this is a request from my izimagines blog! feel free to stop on by and drop off an ask!

“You’re serious.” You deadpanned.

“Being serious is apart of the many joys of science! Of course I am being completely, 100.00% serious!” Your boss almost too cheerfully boasted. You nervously peered over your shoulder, back at the miniature glossed envelope laying flatly on your desk that seemed to taunt you for an answer.

It was no surprise that Membrane Laboratories made many advancements in the field of health and medical assets at whim and recently, a team made up of you, Membrane, and many more of your associates were able to construct and patent a robotic tool capable of peeling fruits or vegetables without the need of man-assisted power. It was perfect for those struggling with Parkinsons or those in a rush who need a quick snack on the go.

And yet again, Membrane Laboratories is hosting another prestigious event to unveil this new line of products.

With Membrane opening up on stage for you to give a keynote speech on your-- as he calls it-- “brilliant nutrition peeler”.

“Are.. Are you really sure you want me out there? On stage? With a crowd of, oh I don’t know, thousands of people watching?” Your expression must have spelt ‘horrified’ in big bold letters because your boss rested a thick, gloved hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Your name quietly rolled off of his tongue.

“Do you really think that I would task you with such an important role if I wasn’t _ confident _in you?” His tone had slight nurturing undertones, as if he were comforting an upset child.

You swallowed an invisible lump in your throat.

“Besides,” He continued, your shoulder suddenly chilling as he peeled his oddly warm hand away, “I did the calculations and it’s improbable for you to fail! Objectively speaking in a scenario that meets all of your required standards.”

You glanced at him, and then the invitation on your desk. Something about this invitation made your stomach sickly twist with a feeling you couldn’t quite describe. You swiveled your work chair to your desk, giving your planner another one-over as if some magical event was going to suddenly appear on the print, leaving you open to decline your bosses invitation.

Unfortunately such magic wasn’t scientifically possible.

You rotated your chair 90 degrees right again, giving a small _ ‘oomph’ _ as your knee collided with the rather hard surface. You rested your left arm on your desk as you methodically rapped each individual digit against the hard oak in a casual attempt to forgo the awkward moment.

“Well, uh,” You tried to smile, but it just felt too forced, “According to my planner I should be free.” you flipped your notebook shut for added effect.

Your boss perked up at your response, then clapping his hands together.

“Fantastic!”

“I just have one concern.” You glanced at the bobbing of your boss’s hair antennae, quietly noting how it instinctively swayed and dipped with his reactions.

“What about your--”

“Kids? I’ve already prepared pre-recorded messages, besides, Foodio 3000 will take care of dinner.”

“Right.” You busied your hands with tidying away any stray documents. You hummed to yourself as you happened upon the patent for the same invention your boss planned on showing off. Either a hint of fate or coincidence, you left that up to the universe to decide.

“It’s not anything they aren’t used to, anyways.” Professor Membrane helped himself to feeling comfortable, as he leaned back against a file cabinet you used to store financial information and estimates.

“That’s not something to be particularly proud of.” You remarked sarcastically, dryly chuckling as you thumped a stack of unkempt documents against the top of your desk.

Membrane tilted his head at your comment as he wore a strange expression.

“Who said I liked leaving my kids on their own?” His tone turned serious, with just the slightest undercurrent of irritation seeping into his words.

_ Shit. _

You then decided it would be in your-- and his-- best interest to keep any comments on family to yourself for the rest of the evening.

Quickly filing away your papers, you coughed into the crook of your arm.

“So, what exactly led up to you deciding I would be the best candidate to unveil the product line? Why not.. Mmh, I dunno, Jen? She constructed the blades and that girl makes a _ mean _blade. Trust me, I’ve seen her work.”

You and your colleagues don’t call Jen the “Blade Barbie” for nothing, she was actually pretty good at it. You had to wonder if she’d been dropped off in a forest as a baby and had to grow up with wolves, eventually learning how to hunt and craft spears on her own. It’d sure explain a lot.

Membrane glanced at you quizzically,

“Oh.” Your mouth fell into an o-shape as you mentally smacked yourself across the forehead.

_ You helped with the design components and programming, genius. _

Even if you were responsible for the basic functioning and the look of the asset, you wondered why Membrane would bother bringing you along. It’s not like the marketed audience would care, they only want to get their worth out of the product they paid for. No one knows who created the design on the cans for Dr. Pepper, they only know that it tastes good.

“You’re the brains behind the genius, why wouldn’t I have chosen you?” Your boss intoned, seemingly confused by your doubt.

“Prooobably because the crowd knows who you are and I’m like, a total, shadow in your awesomeness?” You tried to salvage any hint of playfulness but fell a little short as you pursed your lips together in a tight line instead of the lopsided grin you were aiming for.

“Well, as overshadowed as you and your colleagues are by my brilliance, now’s your chance to show the world who you are! Show them the same genius you’ve shown me!” Professor Membranes posture puffed forward as he overplayed his gesticulating praise.

“I.. suppose I can try?” You shrugged nonchalantly

“But if I end up tripping and eating stage dirt in front of thousands of people, I’m taking those vacation days with me and walkin’ out the front door” You accusingly wagged your finger at him though your tone held no true malice.

He merely barked a laugh at your remark and something about the way his voice carried itself through your office as his shoulders shook from laughing settled a deep heat on your cheeks. A sense of pride slowly bubbled up as you realized you were responsible for making him react so positively like that.

How many times have you heard him laugh like that before?

You relaxed your shoulders as a deep sigh carried through your lips, quirking a tiny smirk up at your boss as he finished his giggling fit.

While the thought of you embarrassing yourself on stage was horrifying in of itself, you couldn’t help but be amused by the image. You’re like the diametric polar opposite of a ballerina in terms of grace, try as you’d like but it’d be difficult to salvage such a calamity on your dignity.

Your shoulders stiffened as you realized something very important you forgot about earlier.

“Hey, don’t we usually dance at these things?” You said, tone filled with peculiarity.

Now it was your boss’s turn to be nervous, as apparently the notion seemed to make him tense as his shoulders squared tightly.

“Well, yes, typically we have an after-party for our employees and other guests of special standing.” He nodded. “I don’t usually partake in them.”

Your boss paused, giving a curt cough. An indicative he was hiding something, it was painfully obvious to you as you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

“I’m usually too busy to stay and engage in the fantastic work of my party-making skills.” He bolstered.

“I’m sorry-- “party-making skills”?” You snorted.

“C’mon, boss, you don’t talk simple like that. What’s up? Can’t make time for a couple of dances?” You knew Membrane wasn’t one to stick around for an after-party, it’s true he was a busy man, but a part of you half-wished he would make an exception-- just once-- for the keynote speech he arranged for you.

“I…” Your boss gripped his forearms, his words weighted with an uneasiness that made you concerned.

Then realization dawned on you as you paused cleaning to drop your hands on your desk, dumbstruck.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me.” You gaped, quirking your trade-mark holy-shit-you’re-serious brow.

~

“You know, not a lot of people know how to dance. It’s alright if your talents aren’t quite.. up to date.” You shrugged, hands clasped behind your back as the both of you made your way down the corridors towards the lunch hall, the only place within the facility that you knew for sure would be empty of an unwelcome audience.

You still have to mentally pinch yourself to verify you weren’t dreaming because if fate wasn’t playing it’s tricks on you the most important man in the world-- the one without whom the world would fall into chaos-- didn’t know how to dance.

You couldn’t help but feel a little pity for the guy. It took a bit of budging to get him to agree but that's only because you two are on completely different social wavelengths so it took a bit of patience and “scientific” persuasion for him to agree. You’re very sure not a lot of people in your office know how to dance anyways, so it’s not a terrible thing to lack skill in.

Instead your boss looked shocked, offended, as if you spat on his shoes and called him a bitch.

“I've written a self-help book on the scientific values of dancing!” He began, a dangerous look of fiery passion hidden by his thick goggles.

Oh boy.

You could tell this was going to branch into tangent territory quickly, you tried to dilute his lecture by waving your hands as a gesture for him to stop.

“Sir-”

“I’ve been nominated for AND won countless Royal Society Prizes for my research!” He accentuated his speech with increasingly growing aggressive gestures.

“Boss.”

“Why, you should be boasting with delight at the mere gesture of being given the chance to accompany me in our--”

“Membrane!” You snapped.

You could feel a throb of pain spread across your temples as the onslaught of a migraine threatened to touch down.

“You’re so pretty.” You stated flatly, “Now go put on some sneakers, we can watch a couple of videos on basic dancing.” An attempt at a smile turned into a small, lopsided tight line. It was obvious he noticed as his return was hidden by his coat, the only visible sign of it being the slight crinkle in his eyes and uplift of his eyebrows.

Not that you were paying attention to it or anything like that.

~

“How.. Well-- what exactly shall these visual presentations cover?” Your boss clamped his gloved hands together in a failed gesture at stimulating his nerves. Professor Membrane wasn’t the type to present as unsure of himself but this was clearly a stark contrast to the know-it-all man of science you worked with.

Seeing this honest side of him made you remember that despite his grandeur achievements or important status, he was still a person at the end of the day.

You clicked your tongue and returned to the YouTube results of your search, “Well, depends on what you think would be appropriate.” You continued absentmindedly scrolling, stopping in your scrolling for a mere moment to read “3 Simple Dance Moves for Beginners (Hip Hop Dance Moves Tutorial)” A smirk twitched at the edge of your flat-lined lips as you imagined a Professor Membrane doing a Dougie.

“This looks promising.” Your boss pointed out, tapping a video titled “Salsa Dancing for Beginners”

You attempted to stifle a snort but it was clear your boss heard as he threw a curious look your way.

“S-Sorry, it’s just- well- you never struck me as the type to cha-cha-cha down onto floor.” You paused the video before it continued to play further, wiping a tear from the edges of your eye with the cuff of your shirt.

“I’m sure it doesn’t, but would it make sense if I tell you my family and I are Mexican?” Your boss confided, his voice hushing near the end as if you were both Elementary School kids hunched over telling each other secrets.

You looked up at your boss, a little surprised but not entirely shocked by the revelation.

“Really?”

It made sense, actually.

There were times you caught him mumbling to himself in Spanish while he was working on his next grand invention but you knew he spoke different languages so you assumed it was an unconscious habit of his to chat with himself in another language.

“That’s pretty cool actually.” You offered him a warm smile.

“Now,” You pushed yourself up off the ground, wiping your hands, “you ready to dance?”

~

“No- You’ve got to- here let me just-” You gave an airy laugh as you momentarily removed your hand from his shoulder to fix his grip on yours, moving it upwards and relaxing.

“Like that, see?” You reassured him.

“This “On1” timing business is incompatible with my science!”

“Just admit you don’t have rhythm.” You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly, smirking a little.

The video the two of you had been watching was paused for the umpteenth time, yet again, as Membrane struggled to meet your pace. It probably didn’t help the guy was so wide compared to your tiny figure, you never paid mind to the height difference between the two of you but now that you were inches apart and held your hands on the others shoulders, it was very emphasized.

“Alright, let’s try again.” You said, lolling your head from side to side in an attempt to pop a knick in your neck.

You stooped to play the video, then quickly popped back up in your former position to get into place.

Your feet followed the example beat in the video, swaying forward then back, Membrane following suite. It was a challenge trying to avoid whacking your boss in the heel with your own since his feet were two times as big as yours. You tried to carefully maneuver your feet while also adopting a natural rhythm so as to not throw his off, but on a misguided beat, your heel ended up rolling and you fell into him.

Your boss stopped short, instinctively hooking your back and flushing you to his chest before he toppled onto the ground, laddering you down on top of him.

For a moment, you were breathless, mostly due to having a bit of air knocked out of your lungs but also because you were stunned from being so close to him.

An uneasy warmth settled in your stomach.

“I-” You began, any train of thought process halting to a stop because your _ stupid _brain decided to focus on how his arms were still wrapped around you. It wasn’t quite discomfort, if you had felt like you were in pain you would’ve moved away immediately, no, you were unable to pin down this feeling.

You silently hoped your boss couldn’t feel the hammering in your chest.

“Oh no! I am so sorry!” Your boss stammered.

“My center of balance was miscalculated and my timing was off by a fraction and a whole bunch of other mumbo jumbo that just- it all dominoed and- stars above, I am so sorry, are you okay?” Professor Membrane took your wrist as support as you helped yourself up, sitting criss-cross applesauce.

“I’m okay! I’m- I’m fine, Membrane.” You breathed out, holding two fingers to your temple as your boss continued fussing over you like a worried nanny.

“It was an accident.” You shooed his hands away from your shoulders and you weren’t sure if it was the aftershock of falling imposing on your cognition but you swore his hands lingered momentarily before he dropped them to his side.

For a moment, the both of you were quiet as you tried to process the last ten seconds, then the gravity of what had happened slowly settled in as you brought yourself to your knees and you couldn’t help but break out in hysterics.

“Oh my god..” You snorted into your palm, “I just got barreled off my feet by the most important man in the world- who is also my boss.”

Ten years ago had someone told you that you were going to end up working for _ the _Professor Membrane, and years later you both were going to end up busting your asses on the floor trying to teach your boss- Professor Membrane- how to salsa dance, you wouldn’t have believed them.

What a world.

“You know, this is certainly one way to spend your Thursday evening.” Your boss rumbled, a low chuckle escaping him.

“But I can’t say I’m not having fun.”

A light warmth settled in your face.

“You know, Membrane, you’re not a bad dancer.” You praised softly, “With a little more practice you could be damn well perfect at it.”

You weren’t sure if it was the remnants of adrenaline that still pumped through your body from the fall or if you were feeling risky, but your body reacted before you could and you placed a reassuring hand on his thigh.

Then the horrifying reality of the situation hit you like a truck.

Embarrassment swelled up in your throat as you quickly absconded your hand away, feeling self-conscious at the gesture and your sudden apprehensiveness.

You were about to stammer out a half-hearted excuse before your boss cut you off, returning your gesture by placing his hand atop yours. Heat burned across your face as you shuffled looks between your hands and his face, ultimately gathering your mental bearings and settling on his face.

Through his collar and goggles, something in his expression softened as he let out a soft, “Thank you.”, gently squeezing your hand.

It took a moment for you to relax, but you were glad no one was around to witness the spread of red flush across your face as that inexplicable feeling you couldn’t describe came back.


End file.
